


Interview With A Monster

by LadyHorizon94



Series: (Not) Mine [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (THOUGH ONE-SIDED, AND MENTAL, Angst, Experiments, Grillby is heartbroken, Incest, Kind of Body Horror, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Obsessive Behavior, Underfell AU, Unhealthy Relationships, WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND GORE ON LATER CHAPTERS, Yandere!UFPapyrus, Yandere!Uspapyrus (mentioned), physical, protective!grillby, warning: abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9813632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHorizon94/pseuds/LadyHorizon94
Summary: "Honey, I'm an actor. I have one face on the stage and another off stage. You don't know anything about me."Underfell AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oooh boy, this came out faster than I thought it would :'D Partly, because I have been waiting to write this for ages. The other reason is, the first chapter is much shorter than I orginally intented. I ended it there since otherwise it would have turned out too jumpy. Honestly... I'm not sure how this turned out. On the other hand, I had blast with this but... my writing might not be the same quality than usual... anyway, hope you like this, even if it's not my best.

                    The lack of traces is driving Grillby mad. It has never bothered him how small their dark hellish kingdom actually is, quite the contrary. But now it only feels like someone is playing a trick on him. He has bribed every monster powerful enough he knows to help him. He has wandered to the Capital and back, asked thousands “Have you seen…” threatened to those the fireman has suspected of lying, burned a few of them in the heat of his frustration.

 

                      But it’s no use. It’s like the small kingdom has just swallowed Sans whole. And through Grillby’s fruitless search the image of the monster with an orange hood is haunting him. Time to time the male is almost sure he smells the disgusting mix of cigarettes and honey but when he turns to look there’s absolutely no one.

 

                      Sometimes Grillby feels like he’s going crazy. Sometimes the whole ordeal with Sans feels just a distant dream or hallucination. Still, the fireman knows it’s not. (Of course he does.)

                     

                      The male is sitting alone at his own bar, locking the chaos of violent society outside with an angry “Closed” sign on the door. Keeping the bar up feels pointless now. Grillby grits his teeth, as the cigarette on his mouth burns into ashes. Someone might consider this romantic. After all, Grillby is looking for his love, chasing him at the end of the world. They would say the flame monster’s love is pure, romantic.

                     

                      It’s not.

 

                      Of course the man loves Sans honestly (not like Papyrus) but it’s consuming him, tiring him. It’s a collar around his neck, strangling him with the overwhelming power of worry, desire frustration and anger. Fear is driving him looking at the ashy snow, pondering if it still Sans…

 

                      Why do monsters have to turn into dust when they die?! It makes so much harder to identify the dead.

 

                      A sigh makes the air hotter around him. Grillby raises his hand on his face trying to dig from his memory the places he has already checked…

                     

                      A creak of opening door interrupts him. “We’re closed,” the male retorts his voice tight and cold. He swears these guards are getting stupider and stupider every day. Now they can’t read, apparently.

 

                      “I know,” a dry voice answers without a humor. “You have been for the past three days and it’s honestly getting ridiculous.”  Grillby raises his head like someone is pulling a string to look at one of the most tolerable monster he knows.

                     

                      Red Bird – or Reddie as folks call him – is leaning against the wall, glaring at him. The bird’s feathers are puffed like he’s ready for an attack. Grillby thinks he knows exactly why Reddie has come and it only adds more to his tiredness.

                     

                      Time for a drink.

                     

                      Grillby walks behind the counter grabbing his finest wine bottle and pouring to himself. The male doesn’t even bother to offer to the other. The flame monster isn’t doing charity. If Reddie wants some, he’ll better pay for it.

                     

                      “What do you want?” He asks coldly, only to speed up the process. Grillby is actually surprised the stupid featherhead even bothers.

                     

                      “He’s gone, Grillby. Stop fucking act like a mourning human widow and move on. You know how it is like here!” Now Grillby wonders why he even bothered with a wine glass. Drinking straight from a bottle sounds suddenly much better.

                     

                      “You heard what that stranger said. He’s alive. Somewhere.” Grillby knows he sounds delusional. He knows he doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to outsiders. But the intensity in the stranger’s voice… The pure rage when he asked about Papyrus…

 

                      _He’s the key. He’s somewhere. With Sans._

“Are you even hearing yourself?!” Reddie sounds impatient and the sentence is turning nearly a screech at the end. “That guy was fucking with you! Besides, Sans’ health wasn’t high to begin with! This was ought to happen eventually!”

                     

                      The flame monster just stares at the glass. The liquid inside is dark red nearly brownish in the dim lit bar. “Have you seen him die?” Grillby asks calmly.

                     

                      “No, but – “

                     

                      “Then there’s a chance he’s alive,” Honestly, the flame is not as confident as he appears to be. He just wants Reddie gone so he can think of his next move. The male doesn’t need some pointless chicken to feed his fears and insecurities.

                     

                      “A very small,” Red bird scoffs. “There are plenty other monsters to warm your bed if you really are that desperate – “

                     

                      Grillby freezes. “Out.” The word comes out with a short sharp hiss. Reddie doesn’t bulge. He looks irritatingly determined. So the flame monster decides to encourage him. A small flame lit in the bird’s right wing. He screeched once and managed to smother it with his other wing turning to glare the bartender.

                     

                      “Fine,” He snaps before turning and leaving closing the door loudly behind him, leaving the purple flame alone.

                     

                      The male drinks the wine with only one gulp. He doesn’t give a single a fuck what Reddie or any other monster think. The alcohol in his body makes his flames burn higher and Grillby feels a bit better. A bit sharper.

                     

                      Now that there are no distractions he can actually focus on Sans again. A nagging feeling is hammering back of his mind. Grillby feels like he’s missing something important. Like he hasn’t really looked everywhere…

                     

                      The flame monster goes through all of his memories once again, rewinding all the conversation he can remember with the skeleton. It’s not easy. Emotions and regrets are rising again trying to play with his logic.

                     

                      Grillby thinks all the places Sans liked, all his safe havens. The pictures fill his head of bittersweet nostalgia of how the small skeleton fought against sleep on his post, all his stupid jokes at the bar, how he talked about that lady behind the door.

                     

                      _Wait…_

The door… The lady…

                     

                      _Ruins._ Of course! The bartender curses his own stupidity. Behind that door lays an entire area of ruins of the old Capital. If that woman really is Sans’ friend then of course she would help him. Maybe… The man in the hoodie came from there as well. Maybe there are bunch of other monsters there, seeking asylum from the craziness that surrounds them.

                     

                      The fire nearly drops the glass on his hands as he stands up. His impatient soul is humming with hope even though the man’s common sense is fighting against it. Nonetheless Grillby is out fast, walking, nearly running into the woods like something is possessing him.

                     

                      Town folks aren’t even looking at him, all too used to Grillby’s vain searching. They are convinced by now that the male has gone mad.

                     

                      When the fire finally arrives to the door, he stops, staring at it. It towers him, ancient and threatening as if it was trying to scare the flame away.

                     

                      What a silly thought. The male tries to push the door open, not expecting much of it. There might be a spell keeping it closed and as he suspected, it doesn’t even bulge. Grillby looks at it thinking… He could try to just brutally burn the whole thing down but the male suspects it wouldn’t do much.

                     

                      The wheels are turning inside the bartender’s head as he just stands there, inspecting the thing. He remembers how Sans often just knocked the door and got an answer. So the flame monster raises his hand feeling utterly stupid. What if it needs to be certain kind of knock so the lady would answer? What if she isn’t there?

                     

                      But this is only thing he has.

                     

                      So Grillby knocks and waits. Nothing.

                     

                      He knocks again. Nothing.

                     

                      _This is ridiculous…_ The male is getting frustrated as he just stands there. Was Sans just messing with him? Is there really anyone beyond this door? The ruins are a mystical place which no one really mentions anymore. It’s part of a history long forgotten. It’s not exactly forbidden to go there but everyone still keeps ignoring the door deep within the forest.

                     

                      No matter how mystical or ancient Grillby doesn’t really give a fuck. Despite his shortening patience which has been strained for several days now, the male knocks again.

                     

                      “Y-you came!” The flame monster nearly jumps hearing a foreign voice from the other side. It sounds out of breath and hoarse, like the lady hasn’t used in centuries. “I thought… Y-You were like _them._ Those traitorous, _ungrateful_ children. Always leaving me here…” The woman’s speech speed’s up as she gets more upset. There’s an unsettling aura that Grillby can sense even through the wood which makes his fiery soul go cold. He’s a bit worried about Sans spending time with this friend of his.

                     

                      But… She has clearly waited someone else than Grillby. Sans, maybe? Does that mean the skeleton is not in the Ruins?

                     

                      The flame clears his throat. “I’m deeply sorry, Ma’am, but I’m afraid I’m not the one you’re looking for.” The man is not stupid. Whoever this monster is, she is powerful and disrespecting such a monster could be a grave mistake – at least if Grillby hopes to gain any information about Sans.

                      “You’re not…? Has he abandoned me too?! I should have known… They always leave! Every single one of them!” Her voice gets higher and Grillby is sensing the air heating just in front of the door.

                     

                      “May I ask you, who are you referring to?” Grillby forces his voice to stay calm and pleasant. He leans against the door his arms folded. _Damn it Sans… You sure attract a lot of creeps huh…_

There’s a long pause and for a moment the flame thinks the woman has left until a wavering chuckle can be heard. “Oh… He was wonderful… Always amusing me with all kinds of jokes…”

                     

                      Grillby feels as if something is tucking the hem of his pants but it’s probably just his imagination due to the creepy atmosphere the silent forest and the insane woman sets up together. Instead, the male is grabbing his mind to the answer the lady gave him. “Puns?” His question comes out as a whisper.

                     

                      Delighted, high-pitched squeal is his confirmation. “Yes, yes! He was quite talented, especially making all those bone jokes!”

                     

                      “I’m a… friend of his. He’s missing. When was the last time you talked to him? Did he tell you anything?”

                     

                      “O-oh… It’s so hard to tell time apart in here my child… I have been alone so, so long. Last time I heard his voice, it was sad and it didn’t held so much joy. He told me his life wasn’t very happy… how he wanted to just end it all, but it would be pointless since everything would just repeat itself…” The purple flame feels his soul freeze at these words and the memory of Sans on the edge pops into his mind. “Of course I tried to help the poor dear. If he would have come to live here, he would have been safe. _I_ would have kept him safe…” The woman sounds upset again.

                     

                      Grillby feels a heat of protective anger rise from the depth of his soul but the childish satisfaction of the fact that Sans refused since the woman is obviously offended calms him down.

                     

                      “…So he’s not in there? In the ruins?” It’s a stupid question, of course it is. But Grillby wants to be absolutely sure. Besides, Sans can teleport. It’s not impossible for the skeleton to change his location and hide from his unstable friend. Though it’s an unlikely due to this woman’s personality. The man just…

                     

                      …Wants to find Sans. Tell him Papyrus is dead and would never torment him again.

                     

                      While waiting for an answer, he feels tugging again – this time much stronger. It’s definitely not a trick of his mind. As the male looks down irritated of distraction, his eyes widen.

                     

                      A dozen of black, small spiders have gathered in front of him. They are jumping nearly comically either with the delight that they have been noticed or they are trying to get Grillby’s attention.

                     

                      Well, luckily for them the male surely has noticed and recognized them: They are Muffet’s spiders.

                     

                      “Well… I would say no, but who knows….” The female’s voice is coy now and Grillby sees right through it. “If you wish, you could come and see for yourself. Maybe I could help you with your search…” The spiders are jumping more eager. The male can hear high pitched noise which is them speaking, but unfortunately they are too small for male to understand. So he takes one of them on the palm of his hand, closer to his ear so he can at least somewhat hear it.

                     

                      _Master! Master!_ It goes on. _Don’t trust the crazy goat!_

“I wasn’t going to,” the flame mutters so the female can’t hear. Apparently the monster has been so long she craves for any kind of company. “And I’m not your master.”

                     

                      _You are! You are!_ The spider argues. _Xavier! The mistress’ testament! Show it! Show it!_ Herd of spider is making the way for a spider with small mustache on its’ face. With his hand (leg?) it’s holding a white paper which Grillby grabs not really believing the whole situation.

“Well? What do you say?” the lady is getting impatient. (What is he doing anyway?! He should be focusing on sucking answers from this lunatic instead of shenanigans of small bugs.)

                     

                      “Your offer is very generous,” The male starts carefully still eyeing the paper. “May I think it for a moment?”

                     

                      “Very well, but please, do not leave me waiting too long,” _Or else_ is left hanging between them. Though the bartender is not very threatened by it.

                     

                      Finally managing to buy himself more time Grillby actually reads the whole thing quickly just to get back to business as soon as possible.

                     

_I, Muffet, the queen and leader of the spider clan, shall leave my spiders in the care of Fire Monster Grillby in the case of my passing._

_(Oh, don’t complain dearie, we both know you are more than qualified for this.)_

**_Muffet_ **

 

                      The signing is Muffet’s no doubt about that. Grillby feels mildly annoyed. He doesn’t have time to take care of her spoiled spies. Even in death, his friend is being a nuisance. Then again… The fire does own the spider monster. After all, her death is his fault.

                     

                      “Are you still there?” The woman asks. Grillby curses under his breath. He truly _really_ doesn’t time for this.

                     

                      “I am. Please I ask your patience,” At this point the male isn’t even bothering with excuses. “I’m sorry, but I need to find someone. I can’t take care – “

                     

                      _We know! We know! We can search him for you! It’s that skeleton, right? Right?_ The eagerness in the spider’s voice hasn’t ceased. Grillby blinks. _Of course…_ They are spies. It’s all they did for Muffet. Her little minions snooped around for all kinds of dirty secret in their queen’s need.

                     

                      “Can you inspect the ruins?” He asks with the hushed tone. The spider lets out a funny, squeaky noise which is probably laughter.

                     

                      _Silly flame! Part of us lives there! Yes we can!_

Well, well. Maybe owning an army of small spiders isn’t really that bad. Grillby doesn’t even turn to look at the door as he opens his mouth. “I’m very grateful for the offer, however I cannot accept it.”

                     

                      There is a heavy silence. “And why is that?” The voice is quivering with held back rage.

                     

                      The male is thinking for an answer. _She will be displeased no matter what I say._ “I cannot trust you. I understand you are lonely but I can’t search my friend if I’m trapped in there.” His voice is calm despite the slight worry of the door’s possible opening.

                     

                      There’s an ears piercing scream and banging on the door. “You are one of them! You’re going to leave me to **_rot_** in here just like **_T H E M!_** _”_

Grillby’s soul is telling him to run, but he looks at the spiders. “Half of you, check the ruins. Look everywhere for a small skeleton monster with red clothes and magic. The rest, check the rest of the Underground. I have looked everywhere but there might some areas I haven’t noticed.”

                     

                      The spiders do as they are told, scattering and leaving to fulfill their new master’s orders. The purple flame himself is heading for the bar, walking with quick steps further and further away from the Ruins. (Running would be considered as weakness. Old habits die hard)

                     

                      When the male is nearly there, he notices that the certain spider is still on his hand. He raises a fiery eyebrow at it. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?” _Would have saved me from all of that trouble…_

The spider starts jumping again. (It’s getting a bit annoying if Grillby is being completely honest.) _Mourning period! Mourning period!_ It only repeats, pulling a tiny tissue somewhere and starts to wipe its’ eyes. Grillby just rolls his eyes.

                     

                      The day has been… Weird to say the least. But at least the male feels like he’s closer. At least he can now search more effectively. He… trusts Muffet and knows the spiders will be loyal to him. Now he only needs to wait…

                     

***

 

                      Nothing, The spiders have looked for days and even from the places the flame monster hasn’t even consider looking. In a way, Grillby was expecting it as he looks the small black bugs. They look like dirt spots on his counter and the flame man can’t tell if they are disappointed or sad for letting down their master.

                     

                      The fire man _is_ angry, yes. But it’s not directed at his eager new followers (servants? …Pets?) rather than himself and his own uselessness. He still can’t do anything for Sans – even when his shit bag of a brother is dead.

                     

                      Is Sans really gone? Was Reddie right? Something heavy drops inside Grillby and he wants to smash something. He just _doesn’t know_ and it’s driving him mad.

                                           

                      “Thank you for your effort,” the flame monster only says between his teeth. It would be so much easier without these feelings… this… stupid obsession. If only Sans was just some random client he could just shrug the whole thing off and wash his hands. (Figuratively of course.)

                     

                      _Master! Are you alright?!_ Tiny voice right next to his ear makes him startle. It’s the same spider attracting his attention when the bugs first approached him. Apparently the little thing (Leonardo.) Has made himself to be Grillby’s right hand man.

                     

                      _No, I’m fucking not!_ The flame lets out a bitter laughter. “No.” Something finally snaps and the male let his flames roar with him (cry and scream all the feelings he can’t express.) “I’m tired of this! Either he just fucking doesn’t want to be found, or he is dead and decayed to dust!” Maybe the stranger was just another one of those sadistic bastards who loved to break their victims just for the sake of it.

                     

                      The bartender’s flames are raging as the possibility comes inside to haunt him. Images of Sans crying as the hooded skeleton plays some sick game on him. Sans, screaming without him **_again –_**

****

If that is true the man will make the stranger burn.

                     

                      He has always thought living in the Underground itself was hell with passing gray days and dull-eyed murderers lurking in every corner. Turned out love is even worse, marking him, making it painfully clear how badly Grillby has failed Sans. The ultimate void of loss and regrets are whirling in his head dancing and teasing him.

                     

                      The male wants it to go away. There was a time when he thought the love was some kind of childish invention of humans, some sort of fuzzy sugary feeling making those who fell for it blind idiots.

                     

                      It’s actually needles piercing his soul. It’s unbearable uncertainty, unreal pictures of distant _what ifs._ It’s a hell within his soul, consuming him slowly.

                     

                      _Master! Master! Calm down! There is a way!_ Oh right, the spider on his shoulder. It feels awfully unimportant right now. So what if the little thing burns?

                     

                      “ ** _A way?”_** The male hisses. He doesn’t want hope filling his head with silly ideas again. Hasn’t he been naïve enough already?! To feel it shatter over and over again…

                     

                      He really is weak. Getting all worked up because of one skeleton monster. If the past him would see him now, he would laugh so hard.

                     

_The cameras! The cameras! In the Alphys’ lab! Mistress always went there if the truth was a mystery! Or if we couldn’t find something!_ The spider’s words are getting faster and faster due to the fear of Grillby’s angry fire. Luckily for it, the male actually cools them down as he considers the possibility of it.

 

                     The flame man thinks. Alphys’ cameras couldn’t probably find Sans… At least… He doesn’t really believe it anymore. However. He has heard that the crazy scientist always records the films… It could cast the light to the night of Sans’ disappearance… Giving him at least reason why…

 

                      And maybe… if Sans is dead… He could at least see if it’s true and possibly avenge the skeleton and go collect his dust…

                     

                       This is a thin possibility from which the flame doesn’t really wait much… But it’s like he has becoming a mechanism that moves and moves, chasing the chances like a starving dog.

 

                       He knows Alphys will probably want to do experiments on him. That he will be torn apart from every angle imaginable.

 

                        It doesn’t matter. Grillby wants peace. A solution. An ending. Foolishly he somehow imagined killing Papyrus would grant it but it only fueled his uncertainty.

 

With long, quick steps, the flame man is out of the door continuing his seemingly endless search. c


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaagghhhh I had difficulties to write this chapter and I have no idea why... D: Also I have constantly feeling that my writing in this fic is lower quality than usual. >:( I'm sorry, you deserve better.

The heat of Hotland welcomes Grillby, surrounding him with hot, nearly flaming hot air, sharpening his senses. It feels like he has finally woken up from deep slumber. He feels his flames rejoicing, licking the air around them. The barren land looks like humans' classic definition of hell with all the lava streaming slowly, hissing angrily.

 

The male feels home here. He feels alive. The flame doesn't really know why mother decided to move Snowdin. Was it safety? Was someone after her?

 

...Or maybe it's these stupid traps set everywhere by some self-centered sadistic monster most likely. They aren't overly complicated, but they slow the bartender down significantly making him loose his nerves quicker than drunk rough housing dog guards. In most cases he ends up simply burning them down. He doesn't care if someone high-ranked made them. Grillby would give them peace of his mind – and flames – if they ever crossed paths.

 

Finally, after many curse words and flaming he stands before the labs. It's a big, gray and sad looking building. It's like someone had sucked all the colors from it. This is the place where no one wants to end up. They would rather suffer the finality of execution or at least somewhat memorable death in Mettaton's show. In this place, a monster's identity is stripped and they are only numbers, a hypothesis on a journal which later turns into either success or failure.

 

No one remembers their names in here. Nothing is left in history of them. Only dust on an experiment table and a short marking on a piece of paper.

 

Grillby can't say he doesn't feel mild nausea in his soul. This is the worst possible place for any monster. He can’t help but feel a little bit sorry for all those poor bastards which have been dragged in here.

 

_Master! Aren't you going in?!_ The bartender only nods not saying anything. Grillby doesn't feel like talking. He walks right in. The doors of the labs are always open during daytime and the flame suspect it to be for Alphys' own amusement. Sure, anyone can come and go as they please.  _However,_ if they step out of line...

 

The lobby is dark even with long lamps on the ceiling. They are not helping though since the light they are casting is cold and greenish. The floor is full of dark spots and Grillby doesn't even want to guess what they are. His steps are echoing in the empty hallway as he walks forward. No sound is heard.

 

_Is she not here?_ The woman does have her cameras everywhere, so she should be -

 

Movement.  _Is this a trap?! That traitorous -_ In a split-second Grillby conjures a fire ball on his hand as he turns around to attack his possible attacker.

 

It's... him. On a large screen, mirroring his every move. The bartender forces his body to relax (but not entirely.) The cameras...

 

Grillby feels his soul pulse, as he starts to march towards it -

 

An elevator opens and a dull voice echoes through the lab: “Don't you dare to touch that! I just fixed it!” The flame turns around to look at the scientist. She's small, and the purple fire can tower the woman easily. Her lab coat is messy and Grillby can identify part of the stains as noodles and grease. Dark circles surround her blurry eyes. The Royal Scientist is glaring the man coldly, not looking pleased at all. “You just had to burst in now didn't you? I have important business tonight and I don't want to waste my time!”

 

Grillby feels his jaw tighten and he wants to desperately snap something witty back but he forces the venomous words down his throat. This is not his territory. In his bar, the flame could order folks around and time to time just a tight stare would be enough. In here, he has to play nice...  _For now._

 

“This won't take long, I assure you,” the bartender retorts as coldly as he can his arms folded. “I simply want to know Sans’ whereabouts. With your camera’s it should be a child’s play.” He sounds confident and sure of himself. It’s all facade at least partly. He feels like a parrot, repeating those words over and over. “And if he’s dead, I want to know who did it and why.”

 

The lizard is inspecting him silently, measuring him like she is already imagining the fire monster on her experiment table. Grillby doesn’t even fidget. He stares back, demanding, authoritive. The woman’s mouth curves into a cold, barely noticeable smile.

 

_Here it is,_ the bartender thinks.  _She will ask something in return – probably experiment on me._ The fire assumes. He can take it as long as water is not involved. 

 

“No,” the short word carries itself sharply on Grillby’s ears. It feels like a slap on his face and for a moment the fire doesn’t really register what he has heard. According to rumors, Alphys is more than delighted to do favors – but she always has conditions, she always tricks. Grillby has heard from Muffet that the woman takes pride how she has managed to bring far physically stronger monsters on their knees simply because they want something. The scientist turns monsters’ want against them, using them cruelly. (Though Muffet was the only one she couldn’t trick and the spider lady was deeply amused by it)

 

_She’s playing cat and mouse with me,_ Grillby realizes and his pride is screaming him to take action. He’s a monster with high status; no one should play childish games with him. He’s the one who should make the rules not play by them! 

 

But isn’t he already? He’s a marionette, being pulled and yanked by strings of someone – something he doesn’t know yet or can't identify. Papyrus stripped his pride long ago by putting that stupid ring on his angle. The damn thing is still there, but right now, it doesn’t matter.

 

Grillby lifts his chin ready to bargain. “Name your prize.” Alphys only chuckles and shakes her head. She is like one of those kids the flame man has seen on the play ground. Putting other kids down to become the ruler of the small, puny little school which doesn’t really teach them anything else than to hate humans and how to raise their status so they don’t end up dusted.

 

“There’s no price,” the woman states lifting her glasses, glaring Grillby behind them. “Now if you would just – “

 

“ALPHYS!”

 

The scream is full of anger and annoyance, coming from the other side of the hallway, cutting whatever the scientist was about to say. Grillby’s mood sinks faster than Sans has disappeared as he sees the familiar robot to step into their sight. The thing is a helpless gossip machine, able to drag down anyone who even dares to opposite him. Mettaton walks towards them elegantly, his hips swaying back and forth. His heels are ridiculously high and it seems like a miracle that anyone would be able to walk with such a stability in their steps with them. The first pair of his arms is folded and the second pair is resting on his hips. His yellow eyes are all on Alphys, glaring her with murderous intent. His mouth is a straight line only adding to the robot’s clear displeasure.

 

Alphys frowns, full of anger. “I’m busy, go away.”

 

Mettaton doesn’t even act like he has heard his builder, eyes narrowing. He raises one of his arm from the hip to point it towards the scientist. “You said you would change the oil in me! My HP is going down simply because of your laziness! How can I even think of executing anyone like this, hmmm  _darling?!_ ” 

 

Grillby is not very enthuastic about this interruption. He wants to tell this robot to just suck it up and deal with his ridiculous small problem. However, Alphys is much faster as she rolls her eyes.

 

“Oh, please. Don’t be overdramatic, I told you this morning I’ll change it when I have time,” her flat tone seems only to flare Mettaton’s impatience and frustration as the robot squints his eyes dangerously.

 

“Don’t try to slip, Alphys,” He hisses. “You had all the time in the world, yet you only watched those stupid cartoons of yours!”

 

This is stupid. The bartender feels like he’s back in the bar, breaking the fight between two sentries who blamed each other for cheating in a poker game. Except Mettaton is more like a fancy clown with his exaggerated movements and diva like attitude. Also he would have never guessed that the Royal Scientist would like cartoons… weren’t those for human children to keep them distracted so adults could have time of their own? Heh, the idea is kind of amusing and Grillby has to control his grin for real.

 

Alphys’ face gets red with rage. Her eyes are narrowed as she stares her creation with despise. Mettaton glares back coldly and the fire senses something strange in the air. It’s a wordless conversation between the two of them. The scientist’s hand twitches, like she was going to draw a weapon. Mettaton’s painted eyebrow rises and his body language change as he spreads his upper arms as if to say:  _Go ahead, do it._

 

As fascinating as this invisible debate of power is, it’s only wasting fire elemental’s time. He coughs, wanting the topic back to what he came here for. “Everything has a price… Isn’t that what you always say? At least that’s what I have heard of.” Grillby forces his voice calm and calculating, not wanting to give Alphys the upper hand on this game. Some small part of the male is enjoying this, trying to read the opponents mind, see through all the masks and bargain. The female isn’t the only one who had pretended not to be interested in flame’s offering. He has been in this position before, has been through this song and dance before.

 

Eventually, Alphys would grab his request (She had to.)

 

The female turns to him snorting, mocking smirk spreading across her face crooked and unpleasant. Grillby notes a row of too big teeth. “You’re really dense aren’t you?! I thought you were more clever than this!”

 

“I have no time with your games, Alphys…” the male murmurs his voice low, threatening. Mettaton is eyeing him curiously.

 

“You are that fire elemental! You never showed up! My party was a fucking disaster!” the robot spits. The bartender feels like his nerves are a candle that’s burning from both ends: It’s running very, _very thin._

 

“Shut your mouth,” He growls, blowing burning hot air towards the robot. The freak fidgets, but just shrugs muttering something about Grillby not being his type anyway. Mettaton withdraws, but does not leave, leaning against the wall and listening to their conversation.

 

“You might as well leave,” Alphys says as if Grillby was just an annoying custumer in a grocery store. “I have to attend to new captain’s celebration tonight and I have lot to do.”

 

“I’m sure Captain Undyne wouldn’t mind you being late… Besides, I only need your cameras. That’s all,” The bartender takes a step forward, keeping his intense gaze on the scientist. Alphys doesn’t _cower_ , doesn’t bulge. She is facing Grillby head on. In fact, she’s looking rather amused like the flame would have claimed to be human. The flame forces his voice more persuading and a notch softer as he continues: “I would even agree to assist you with your experiments, if that’s what you require.” 

 

A small gasp is heard from his shoulder.  _Master! No! No!_ The tiny spider is not only one who is a bit shocked. The purple flame sees a glimpse of Mettaton’s face which have a… weird mix of emotions on it. Anger, sadness, shock, tiredness…  _It’s not his business anyway._

 

Even Alphys looks surprised to here that. Her uninterested expression is crumbling, leaving behind only confusion and momentary sourness. Then, like someone had pulled a switch, she starts laughing hollow, empty laughter that fills the hallway with coldness. Grillby’s fiery eyebrow rises. Has she finally snapped? Or is she always like this?

 

“You really **don’t** get it, do you?” Her words are harsh and rough. “I have no intention to help you or your little plaything! What would I gain by experimenting on you anyway?!” 

 

The flame’s soul turns cold like it was a block of ice. He hasn’t really expecting this, maybe some mind games, some resistant… but this? “Really,” He starts mechanically, taking the information in, letting it consume him. Obstacles seems only pile up between him and Sans, time after time. They just keep grow on top of one another. The flame is tired but at the same time, he’s driven by an odd energy that pours in him from his feelings. It’s ridiculous. The fact that this small woman is the one standing between him and the answers. “It’s simple,” He continues silently. “You’d only need to let me view some of those cameras of yours.”

 

The scientist stands her ground, enjoying herself. “No. Why are you even bothering? He’s most likely dead right now! And besides, even if you  _did_ manage to find him, so what? He’s already been used by Papyrus. Why would you want to have such a worn out toy?”

 

The silence is freezing, as the words land on the flame man's mind their meaning becoming crystal clear. The constant reminder of all that pain Sans had to suffer work like gasoline, straining Grillby to the extreme as his feelings keep boiling and boiling. How  _dare_ this woman?! Even Leonardo is angry, lifting two of its’ tiny legs as if preparing to fight. 

 

Without her gadgets, she would be nothing. As a monster she is just a weakling. The flame glances at Mettaton, who is watching both of them with distant interest as if their fight was just a minor bickering. The male doesn’t even care about this tin can and his abilities, he has had  _**enough.** _

 

Fireballs are on his hand in an instant. Alphys is just standing there, completely calm. Tiny warning bell is ringing inside his mind, telling him that there’s something  _wrong_ with the scene. He’s burning anger silences it. He attacks – 

 

Only to have the ring on his ankle to squeeze and chill his fiery skin. He falls on his knees, having his magic switched off. Humiliation burns it’s mark on him as well as confusion. This is… how?  _This fucking thing should only work on Papyrus…_

 

“You idiot,” the scientist sneers. “Did you really think you could attack _me_ with one of _my_ invention on you?” 

 

_Master! Are you alright?!_ The small spider gets completely ignored as Grillby glares at the  _obstacle in his way._ “Fucking bitch,” he spits harshly. “Did Papyrus bribe you to not help me before he died?” 

 

Mean spirited chuckle from Mettaton prevents Alphys from answering. He inspects his own, glowed nails, his smile showing a row of unnaturally white, sharp teeth. “Oh, darling that’s not it…” His voice is so sappy it might as well be syrup falling from robot’s mouth. “You see, Alphys here is jealous…”

 

The scientist pales and the confidence decorating her face is crumbling into a mere ruins. “S-shut your mouth!” She screams. Mettaton is not even slightly affected as he turns all of his eyes to Grillby. They are gleaming with ill-will. The bartender stands up slowly, not sure what’s going on – he only knows that tables are turned and it’s almost joyous to see the scientist like this. “She hates what you two had.  _Because she can’t have that herself!”_ The robot’s grin is equivalent to cheshire cat as he tilts his head looking like a madman. “At first she couldn’t believe it! Love?! In the Underground?! Why, it couldn’t possible be! Why would such a  **strong** monster be with such a  _weakling_ going as far as defying the captain of the Royal Guard himself! After all, Undyne has never – “ 

 

His dramatic, bitter monologue is cut short as he jerks like a puppet. His face is twisted with pain for a moment. Alphys’s face is red with humiliation and her gaze is burning hotter than Grillby’s flames. Her hand is in the pocket while the other one is clutching and tugging obsessively the collar of the lab coat. She’s trembling, reminding Grillby of one big yellow pudding. 

 

“Out…” Female whispers her voice filled with a storm of emotions. “BOTH OF YOU!!! OUT NOW! In fact, drag this useless lighter out while you go, Mettaton!”

 

The flame man wants to be stubborn and root himself where he stands even just for the sake of riling up Alphys more – after all, this new information is very interesting and could be used with so many ways – but Mettaton has already started to drag him along the hallway, squeezing his arm with nearly crushing force.

 

Grillby tries to tear himself out of the robot’s grip while heating his arm.  _“_ _**Let go of me,”** _ he loads all the anger and threat to that one sentence. He wants to –  _needs to_ go back. Maybe he can’t attack on Alphys but he could black mail her, threaten her,  _do something -_

 

Mettaton turns his head around fully to look at the male with untypically bored expression. “Oh, don’t bother, honey. You can’t attack Alphys anyway, so what’s the point?”

 

“I can’t attack her,” flames flare from the male’s mouth as he says this, “but I can attack _you.”_ Mettaton laughs. It sounds lighthearted and amused. He winks at Grillby. 

 

“Awww, you’re so cute. No wonder Sansy fell for you.” The bartender tenses, not wanting to hear anything even remotely related to Sans coming from that mouth. “Yes, you could attack _me_ ,” Mettaton continues, dim light making his eyes looking like lamps. That crazy grin is back telling Grillby hundred tales of monsters this robot have executed. “But I wouldn’t recommend it.” The robot turns his head back, continuing walking forward. 

 

Grillby’s brain are ticking, working like a clockwork as he thinks. Alphys mentioned going out tonight therefore it could be plausible to inspect her cameras while she’s away. However… The demonic scientist probably have a crazy security system which is most likely lethal. “Leonardo… Do you think any of your kind know how to deactivate this place’s security system?” He whispers so Mettaton can’t hear.

 

_We may try! It might take few nights to get to know the system!_ Little spider answers. The male curses. He doesn’t know if they’ll have any more opportunities… But – 

 

He could figure something out. He always does. The bartender nods. “Start tonight,” he hisses. The sooner they can start, the better.

 

They arrive at the door. Mettaton drags him out the door harshly, smiling at the flame man. “Now, now Dearie, chin up! We are so glad you decided to visit us. Please,  _do_ come again.” Grillby is opening he’s mouth simply to tell the male to go and fuck himself, when suddenly the robot is leaning right next to his ear. 

 

“Alphys should be gone by midnight.” The tone is serious. No over the top emotions or acting. No pet name at the end of the sentence. In fact, the robot’s voice sounds downright _dead._

 

Before the purple fire can react, Mettaton has walked passed him as if he had never said anything leaving behind a very puzzled Grillby. For a moment he even doubts his own senses – he does that all the time now days. Every time he has thought he has taken a step towards the truth, it turns out to be just a hallucination: A mirage in the middle of nothing.

 

Mettaton cannot be trusted: The robot glorifies grand displays full of dust and screams of pain. He's unpredictable and cunning. The fact that the robot would actually think the bartender would be that  _**stupid** _ is almost insulting. 

 

...And it doesn't make any sense. He wouldn't make  _that_ obvious trap. 

 

Then again, the flame didn't expect Alphys to turn his offer down. His judgment is fading more and more as his search for Sans gets longer and longer. It's like there is mist which only thickens and thickens, blocking his sight and clarity.

 

He can't trust Mettaton...

 

...But Alphys' lab may offer him an aid. Tools which he doesn't have.

 

The invisible walls are closing around Grillby and he doesn't like this feeling of being just a mere puppet which is being played at. If Alphys and Mettaton really think he is this dumb, they truly need to be knocked on their high horse.

 

The bartender starts to walk his steps firm and quick, as he thinks,  _plans._ Alphys' reaction on Undyne had been a real one, at least, it had appeared so. However, weather or not the scientist really has an errand tonight is a different thing... But even if it was, there's still Mettaton and how to get past him. 

 

_ Master! Master! What do we do?!  _ Leonardo's voice is starting to irritate his ears but Grillby wouldn't hear him otherwise. Besides, he would stand it since these little creatures are valuable, providing him information... getting inside places he can't reach himself... 

 

Grillby admits, he feels more powerful now, like he has obtained back his lost control of things. The time he has spend with these feelings planted by that stranger, who has set the rules of their little game.

 

Not anymore.

 

“I'm working on it,” He mutters impatiently. It's easy to find out if Alphys truly lives and has plans his spiders can probably find it out easily. Mettaton is the hard one... In the end, the fire male doesn't know that much of the robot. He's unpredictable, unstable full of creepy razzle dazzle which everyone has to bow to. “I'm not worried about Alphys. What really worries me is Mettaton.”

 

_ Let us handle him! Let us handle!  _ Leonardo is certainly eager to serve as if to trying to prove something to Grillby. The image of tiny spider army against the massive killer robot is laughable and the flame nearly snorts. 

 

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” He asks flatly, not even trying to cover his disbelief. The little bug starts to shake and at first the bartender thinks he has finally managed to annoy his servant (the thing is almost cute this way)

 

_ Silly Master! Silly Master! You think you have seen all of us!  _ Barely noticeable giggle is escaping in the air.

 

Grillby stops suddenly, turning his head with one quick movement to look at Leonardo. “You mean there's more of you?!” The male could kick himself right after.  _ Of course there's more!  _ Muffet once dragged him to her home to have a “relaxing cup of tea” which turned to be anything else than that with sticky, white webs hanging over their head and all those black spots covering the floor almost entirely. Somehow, the purple fire had imagined that most of them would have perished with their queen. 

 

_Yes! Yes! Plenty more! They can help!_

 

Well, well... this interesting and useful. The herd that approached him first may be good enough for searching and spying but the herd contains too few spiders to actually be useful in a fight. However, Grillby have seen what Muffet's spiders can do when there are enough, how quickly they manage to gnaw meat from bones, how they cover their victims like a black cloud or smother any poor bastard with their web...

 

Mettaton is made of metal, but even him would be slowed down by these silly – devilish – little things if there were many of them.

 

The bartender smirks for a mental image of that tin can screaming hysterically as spiders cover him. It fades away soon as he realizes that Sans would have probably  _ paid  _ to see such a display and laughed at that. 

 

When would these false pictures leave him  **alone?!** Sans isn't here, he wouldn't be able to see the damn thing. 

 

_ And even if he was here... he wouldn't laugh...  _ After things have gotten so terrible, horribly wrong Sams hadn't really laughed at anything. He had been covered with blanked of pain, becoming more and more a robotic mechanic for Papyrus to use however he pleased. 

 

He shouldn't dream. Not at least yet.

 

“Are they loyal?” The male asks. He knows he shouldn't doubt. After all these odd comrades have done everything he has asked for eagerly, without any sight of hesitation in their movement. They act like being passed on to Grillby was the best thing to ever happen to them.

 

The thing is, loyalty is a double-edged sword. It can be used against an unaware monster in an instant, all followers turning against their leader the moment they lose their authority they are cast aside by the ones near them. It's like this for Papyrus. No monster is whispering his name fear echoing their voices. No one is honoring his grotesque accomplishments or even remembering them.

 

Now the new name is spreading among monsters as they feed wild rumors to each other like starving dogs. Undyne, the twisted minded fish monster is the new topic. The guards which have spitting on her commands before, belittling her have now changed their opinions in a flash. Their tone is disgustingly sweet like fruits rotting in summer heat their eyes glancing back and forth paranoia shining in them as if they waited Undyne to jump out of nowhere to attack them.

 

Maybe that's why everyone react with such an repulsive manner, spitting their anger in bartender's face. After all Sans had been considered as an extension of Papyrus. Nothing less, nothing more. He had been someone who would disappear alongside the taller skeleton like a ghost. Some had even admired the loyalty and dedication Sans had shown to his brother since they all know how shallow these alliances were. (No one noticed how  _ sick  _ it all was.) 

 

The bartender knows. He knows he needs help, but old habits aren't easy to kill.

 

_ They are! They are! Not to worry!  _ Leonardo is putting weight on every single word he's peeping out as if he's able to sense his master's skepticism. 

 

The flame only nods. Silently and slowly weighting Leonardo's answer. He doesn't have anything else. He has to rely on them and trust if not their loyalty to him, their undying adoration towards their dead queen.

 

Grillby doesn't like this. All of his options are too vague, his search too aimless without any direction. He's walking his eyes closed not seeing the obstacles on his way and destination like a dream.

 

The sad thing is, he doesn't have anything else than these little spiders and his own instincts (and memories, clouding his mind like a flock of black birds blocking any clear thoughts.)“Gather them,” the bartender orders voice harsh and gruff. “Keep an eye on this place. Make sure Alphys really leaves, and if Mettaton is left guarding the place. I'll be waiting near the North Puzzle.”

 

_ Roger!  _ The spider answers jumping of Grillby's shoulder looking like a ball of soot flying trough the air. Surprisingly elegantly, it starts skitter away. 

 

The flame watches it go, before he starts to walk without destination in mind, letting his thoughts drift away. Today, they are exceptionally loud memories, fears and hopes mixing to the point where it's almost impossible to tell them apart.

 

The bartender's restlessness is speeding up his steps, as he already wishes for the night to come.

 

_ What if you don't get answers?  _ One cynical thought, buried inside him this whole time breaks his mind into even bigger chaos. The male doesn't want to find the answer to that – or more likely it's because he already knows the answer and avoids trying not let that idea get into his soul and poison him. 

 

Grillby loves Sans, it goes without saying. But at the same time he enjoys the chase for much more selfish reasons: It gives him a purpose, a destination in a world where everyone is waiting for death to collect them.

 

It's selfish of him, to have some kind of twisted euphoria from this goose chase. Or maybe it's more like an addiction creeping inside his mind, controlling it.

 

At the same time, he hates it. Grillby wants this to end but he fears if it does. It's... Not right, exactly. Sans should be priority. The skeleton's safety should come first.

 

_ Thoughts are so troublesome,  _ Grillby muses bitterly as he walks forward. From the distant, The Core's silhouette is towering everything, dominating the horizon. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious... What kind of person do I seem to you? What my personality looks like to you? :'D Like of course ppl can't assume much simply by notes and such, but I'm just curious to see what my readers actually think of me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaand We're back! Sorry for the long wait! I had busy life at the uni! Also, this chapter turned out to be longer than I expected as well as this fics! :) There might be even two chapters after this. :D

It’s time. Finally. The day had dragged on feeling like a overly streched rubber band making restlessness inside Grillby grow. Now, the weaker monsters have vanished, crawled cowardly in their hideouts making way for stronger monsters to roam free like street dogs. Some of them were just looking for easy LV, letting their addiction to lead them. These monsters enjoyed the power wanting to fill themselves up with it until they lost themselves.

 

Everyone gained LV eventually just from the self-defense. But Grillby hadn’t really enjoyed that burning rush through his soul tingling and stinging to him. Tonight though, the bartender had to feel it again as he dusted few monsters on his way. The idiots in their blindness challenged him, refusing to listen to his silently whispered threats. The past weeks had worn out the flame’s patience into nothing as he killed them without mercy.

 

Everything had to go according to plan tonight. He refuses to allow any further mishaps and failures. His soul yearns solution more than it has yearned anything else for a long time. And Grillby wouldn’t let anything to stand in his way.

 

Leonardo stands in his shoulder. He has told with a small voice of his how he and other spiders had actually managed to switch off the security system. There aren’t any guards and not a trace of Mettaton and his murderous and glamorous aura.

 

Everything has gone smoothly so far. Maybe a bit too smoothly for the bartender’s taste. He feels like something has been missed, gone unnoticed. One would think that whatever sick secrets the lab contained they would be protected better.

 

Or maybe it’s nothing new. He feels like that all the time, ever since Sans had gone lost – no  _**even before that.** _ Something inside him is nagging to him, telling him that he has missed something vital in skeleton. It’s nibbling him.

 

But tonight is not the time to give any distraction power. The spiders would patrol in case of nasty surprises and secure his back. Some of them would make sure that no unexpected visitors would get through.

 

Grillby can already see the lab. In front of it, spiders cover the ground reminding the bartender of a black cloud. Or more like a huge hole in the ground bottomless and sucking everything in. When they see their master approaching, the spiders form a neat formation. The male would have laughed or snorted if the situation wouldn’t be so grave.

 

They all saluted him, their giant general in this operation. The male stops, looking at them with beamusement. Now they are just acting ridiculous. Grillby is tempted to ask Leonardo if his kind is always like this. So overly… exaggerated.

 

_The cameras are on the second floor… we already got the door open!_

 

The male only nods. He’s distantly curious to know how they managed it but right now it’s not his top concern. The bartender summons two fireballs just in case as he walks right in, about half of the spiders following him.

 

This time, the lights are all out. The darkness would consume everything without Grillby's flames, which are trying to banish the blackness with their soft glow. The silence is pierced by his footsteps and they echo too loudly in bartender's ears. His paranoid mind is already rushing ahead, thinking all kinds of unpleasant things any extra noise could attract.

 

Then again, it's very unlike that Alphys would let her pain filled experiments roam free on these sterile corridors, trying to escape and destroy everything.

 

Grillby arrives in the familiar hall and this time he doesn't startle as he sees himself through the screen. The picture is sharp: Like a mirror. Monsters do have television in the Underground – if they can afford such luxury – but the screens are always unclear, muffled, buzzy voices piercing their owners' ears.

 

Alphys surely has the best technology. And she definitely aren't sharing it with others.  _Figures._

 

The flame monster abandons the screen as he steps into the elevator. ”Second floor?” He whispers just to make sure before pressing the small green button. The elevator twitches, letting out a high schreech before going up. The fucking thing needs to be oiled and soon.  _Then again, if this falls while Alphys is in here, it would do everyone a favor._ How ironic and undignified way to go. The dark thought makes Grillby chuckle.

 

As it stops, the male steps out to an identical corridor. Whoever designed this place had no imagination at all. Then again, there's no need for beautiful illusions to be created when monsters are cut open, tortured and left to die for science.

 

The flame slows down his pace, listening. Nothing. The place is still dead. As if it was abandoned. Spiders are keeping him safe. At least that's what they promised. The flame man is still proceeding cautiously. His imagination starts playing again as he gets the feeling someone is watching from the distance. On occasion Grillby even thinks he's hearing something. Deep, inside his soul the purple fire longs for a real fight, a way for him to finally let everything lose and just  **b u r n** his negative feelings along side the poor bastard who would oppose him.

 

_The cameras are straight ahead! Just walk straight! Violet and Edward are guarding the door along with few others!_ Leonardo whispers. It's nearly drowned withing the silent crackling of Grillby's fire. The flame allows a short nod as he walks ahead. The door is surely already opened, there's no doubt about that. It's amazing how easily these little helper's of his managed to break in the most high secured facility in the Underground after Asgore's castle.

 

The small spider guards are almost impossible to see. Only a small squick from Leonardo stops Grillby and as he looks down and nods to guards. They salute him back. The gush of annoyance bursts in his soul but the flame ignores it. Once all of this would be over he would educate these...  _bugs._

 

Now it's not the time to think such a things. The flame has work to do. As he opens the door it hardly lets any noise pass making something inside bartender a notch lighter. The male still refuses to believe that it would this  _easy._ This is Alphys' domain. Grillby wants to actually turn to his spiders and make sure just  _one more_ time that they have absolutely switched off every single security system. He would not allow himself to be that weak though. Not anymore. Those days are far gone when he would lay on his bed, watching darkness of his room, imagining these creepy creatures his kind referred as ”humans.”

 

The flame monster is way above that. He  _does_ fear, that hasn't changed of course not. (Stars, Grillby had felt it so strongly when Sans had stood there, on the edge of the fall, lifeless, empty) But in order to live, monsters can't really show their weaknesses.

 

The fire steps into the room and he meets a wall with bright nearly blinding screens. The whole underground is captured in these cameras fragment by fragment. There and then Grillby truly understands how small their world is, how  **C L O S E D** they are under this rock. How easy the king can just watch them.

 

He feels claustrophobic and boxed in. Grillby's hand twitch as a quick thought passes his head: He  _could_ destroy these spying equipment – after he has used them himself.

 

It surprises him. What difference it would make? Hasn't he always known this? It's no secret that Alphys' small eyes can see everywhere. It has never crept him out or disturbed him so why now...?

 

Maybe how this world treated Sans has finally opened his eyes. Grillby snorts.  _Like hell it is!_ The bartender may not be as brutal as some other monsters. He may not necessarily enjoy bringing pain to others. But he certainly doesn't feeling anything as his flames dance on others' bodies, swirling faster and faster under there's nothing left. No joy rises inside him but neither does regret or sadness. Countless faces of monsters he had to depose of across the years don't haunt him.

 

Maybe is the new urge of freedom, echoing,  _**screaming** _ through his soul which rose as he watched Sans' slowly collapsing state wanting to be somewhere they could be safe. Maybe it was also a sudden realization that they are not free. That's obvious, of course it is, but they aren't free from each other. From their family who could turn against their own any minute. Not from LOVE looming in the air like toxic.

 

Grillby would break free. He would – no he  _**will –** _ break free and bring Sans with him. As he walks towards the screens the male wonders if he could somehow steal one of the souls from Asgore and escape on the world above with Sans.

 

_What if Sans is already there?_ An option, unthinkable one pours on him like a heavy rain leaving him frozen all over:  _What if Sans was already there?!_ If that was what the monster wearing the hoodie meant. That Sans was safe...  _**Because he was not in the Underground anymore.** _

 

It would explain why Grillby can't find Sans. It would explain the strange monster, his smug attitude and mockery. The screens illuminate the fire's astounded face as this one thought crushes in his mind.

 

_Master! Are you going to do it?!_ Leonardo sounds a bit irritated and impatient. The flame snaps out of it. What is he doing? He has a purpose here, the male can't just freeze with doubt every single time a new possibility blooms like a weed. Besides, if even a one soul would have been stolen from Asgore, there would have been a huge uproar and maniac search. Unless... they wanted to avoid that. Unless they kept quiet about it... The event would make the king's all powerful image questionable and inspire others to try to take the rest of the souls for themselves.

 

_Don't think about it now._ It sounds far-fetched and distant. The bartender would at least check this first before jumping into crazy conclusions.

 

Grillby walks to a control panel under the cameras. It appears to have nearly hundred little buttons in it. He inspects them, trying to figure out which one is which. ”Leonardo, do you know, how this works?”

 

 

The spider scuttles along Grillby's arm to inspect the panel. As it moves its' little legs fast running and hopping over the buttons the bartender can practically feel the clock ticking, their precious time running short. The male is about to burst, to snap to this spider to hurry up, when they hear noises just outside the room. The male can actually hear the angry – though still barely audible – voices of spiders which is said a lot. If even the bartender can hear them the little creatures must be angry.

 

There's also something squeking against the floor – like a wheel. The bartender needs to think fast. Grillby doesn't know who, or what his minions are fighting against outside. The male considers fleeing and leaving spiders behind. If he's caught, he will be executed. The attack and trespassing are always seen as a treachery against the crown itself –  _without any exceptions._

 

However, he owns Muffet. The leader of spiders was often seen as cruel, sadistic and all-seeing. No one but Grillby knew her better. She had one thing she valued more than her own life: Her kin, her spiders,  _her family._

 

The woman had left her living legacy into the fire man's hands, entrusting her  _entire_ clan to him. After sacrificing herself for Grillby.

 

_...Shit..._ The fire runs to the door, Sans' smug face traveling back to his head somewhere far. He's holding a free drink and french fries and even though the light in the male's eye-socket's have dimmed  _it's still there._

 

” _You're really just a softie, aren't ya Grillbz?!”_

 

_Don't smile,_ the bartender thinks, even though it's nothing more than a distant illusion created by his brains.  _If I wasn't like this – If I was a notch crueler... you would still be here with me._

 

It doesn't take more than a couple long, quick steps and he's already at the door his flames burning bright, flaming a shining like a comet on a night sky. The male is ready to fight, ready to give his all -

 

It's... a metal box of some sort. With four arms and only one, pathetic wheel carrying the thing's weight. And it's already tight up with a thick layer of spider web, keeping all the limbs intact.

 

Xavier approaches its' master, the mustache trembling with pride and excitement. It obviously wants to have a word with the purple fire so the male lifts it up.  _Master! We caught him! We tried to poison him with our natural venom, but it doesn't seem to have any effect! What shall we do with him?!_

 

”Ooh noo,” The box says dryly and sarcastically without any enthusiasm. ”I'm caught, whatever shall I do?” It clearly doesn't care the situation it's in. It doesn't try to fight its' bindings or to move. However, the voice sounds really familiar...

 

”So Alphys puts the same voice into all of her inventions? Kind of lazy, if you ask me,” Grillby scoffs, grinning.

 

”You could say that... though I'm very unique,” the box says calmly, not bothered by at all with the bartender's clear intention. ”Oh well, I'm glad you decided to take my advice, _darling.”_

 

The last word comes out as a flamboyant yell. There's no mistake about it, though it's so absurd and Grillby really can't grasp his head around it for a second. After all,  _he_ would never allow himself to be caught like this.  _He_ would never show himself in that kind of form which is so unclassy and looks clumsy at best.

 

”Mettaton?” He tries while applauding that tin can. He should have expected this kind of move, of course. Why else would Mettaton running around giving an advice like that?

 

And the male had been stupid enough to believe it. Grillby let his flames hiss and burn, giving Mettaton a taste of what he's capable of. ”Is Alphys here?! Who else is guarding this place?!” The male just  _can't_ let this slip through his fingers. He can't let this thin thread to Sans to just wither away any more than it already has.

 

”It's just me. Alphys is out, as I said,” The robot's voice is very calm, down right bored. He isn't affected even slightest by the burning heat surrounding him. ”I came here to help you.”

 

The laughter crackles from the flame's mouth before he can't stop it. ”And why would you help me, hmm?” Then it hits him and dry smile is formed onto his face, painting Grillby's face with bitterness. ”Is this part of your show?” The male glances around, trying to spot any cameras, any signs he has been trapped in some kind of sick game show.

 

A heavy, impatient sigh escape Mettaton's mouth. ”Look, You can do whatever you want but don't warn me when you push one of those little buttons over there and launch  _entire security system._ ” The robot's voice holds weight and seriousness in it that has never been in there. Heck, the bartender has never really realized how deep voice this tin can has.

 

The spiders are moving restlessly, clearly annoyed. Grillby can understand that. He remains stoic as he studies Mettaton – though it's incredibly hard now that the other one doesn't have any facial expressions. ”My spiders already checked everything. Every single thing should be - ”

 

”What kind of fool you take Alphys for?” the robot's is absolute, leaving no room for argument. ”You really think she wouldn't have waited for something like this? You think _the royal scientist_ doesn't have a back up plan?” Now it's the invention's turn to chuckle, deep and hollow.

 

”And you just expect me to trust you blindly?” Grillby asks flatly, raising a fiery eyebrow. It's the best joke he has heard in decades.

 

”Then don't. If you want to get caught, go ahead, risk your mission to find Sans and leave. You are the only one with something to lose.” Mettaton tries to shrug. It comes off as a small, awkward gesture.

 

This calm, almost apathetic act confuses the male and leaves him puzzled. This isn't the attention seeking, blood thirsty walking spectacle he knows. Mettaton is everything  _but_ apathetic always having an emotion – no matter how fake or pretentious – bursting in his voice, his movements...

 

It annoys Grillby. He doesn't like this. Doesn't like how the world around him seems to change its' rules at every step he takes. The male paints a cruel grin on his face as he leans closer to the metallic square. ”You  _do_ have something to lose. Your life.”

 

Mettaton starts laughing again, more maniac this time. ”Oh,  _darling,_ you are a riot! If you ended my life right here and now, I would be  _thrilled._ However, it would turn out to be such a tragedy for you! Without me, you will never leave this place alive and Sans will remain forever lost. Trust me, I get that, you are a tragic hero that cares more about the monster he loves rather than himself...  _Which is why you should let me help you._

 

Sans has become a string which allows others to pull Grillby however they wanted to. Papyrus used this fact shamelessly for his own benefit, dirtying the fire man's mind and soul with every ”loving” display he showed to his brother while in public. Even when Sans is gone, he's just a vessel for others' to toy and meddle with the bartender's emotions as they please.

 

There's something dirty about it.

 

And yet, the male can't ignore it. He doesn't trust Mettaton, it could be a trap... But the robot is right. When it comes to Sans, the flame just can't ignore it. ”Fine,” Grillby spits bitterly ignoring Xavier's protests. ”But if this is a trap, I'll make sure you will die before I get taken away.”

 

”Whatever you say Romeo,” The robot retorts with flat tone. The fire wheels him into the room, keeping him still tied up.

 

”You need to untie my hands if you want me to disable the security on these cameras,” the robot comments. The idea makes Grillby grimace. He doesn't feel all that comfortable doing so. He eyes the bind arms with great suspicion.

 

”Can you do this with only one hand?” He asks after a pause.

 

”Suspicious, are we?” The flame can practically hear the grin on his voice and Grillby just wants punch the smug thing right where he face would be.

 

”Oh, no, you are _reliable.”_ Grillby’s voice is dropping sarcasm. After all, he has seen all the monsters this robot has destroyed simply because they trusted him. Mettaton is not just excelling in killing in the name of the king: He’s the crown jewel of social circles, the emperor of spreading rumors, tearing down those who had angered him. After all, even Mettaton couldn’t execute anyone just wantonly.

 

Right now the male has to use him. Just a little bit. After this, he would make sure the other one wouldn’t talk.

 

Mettaton lets out a sigh like fiery man’s reasons weren’t sensible enough. “ _Fine._ If it makes you feel better. Though cracking the system takes more time then.”

 

“I don’t care.” The bartender would rather have everything to go smoothly. He frees the right hand from the bounds, standing right next to his captive in case he tries _anything_ funny. The robot flexes his fingers, as if to make sure, they are still intact. He brings his hand quickly above the several buttons starting to type quickly and precisely, his fingers dancing on the keyboard with confident movements.

 

They fall silent for a while. It gives Grillby chance to inspect this strange form Mettaton has on him. It doesn’t suit him, and it doesn’t make any sense. The Mettaton Grillby knows only allows himself to be seen glamorous and shiny. This is… just weird.

 

“What’s with that new form?” the flame notices himself asking over the constant typing. His reluctant curiosity has taken over and he wants to know if this is just one of those new fashion stunt which he simply doesn’t understand.

 

“This is my alternative form. I use this when I’m not on a stage or if I don’t have anything important. Besides, that other one only makes my battery drain faster.” Mettaton sounds almost normal. His voice doesn’t rise or wonder weirdly. For a moment the male even pinpointed a relief in his voice.

 

“I see…” The male mutters as Mettaton continues his typing. Both of them don’t speak as that singular, monotonous voice dominates the room. The spiders are death silent and none of them is moving. They are all following the robot with their eyes.

 

“Does it really surprise you that much?” The robot doesn’t turn around as his musing words broke the awkward tension once again.

 

“The modesty isn’t exactly your thing, Mettaton,” The fire remarks, folding his arms. His words come out harsh, impatient. They must have strike something in the other one as his finger tips twitches.

 

“Oh? And how to you what is my thing?” Mettaton response is flat. Now his fingers are nearly beating the buttons. Grillby grins, amused how easily he manages to trigger a reaction out of the actor.

 

“I have seen you and your… performances,” the bartender retorts, shrugging. “You seem to have fun being so glamorous.” _And batten with all that monster dust._ The male doesn’t say this out loud but it’s still hanging in the air, tightening it even more.

 

“It's my job, I'm only doing what I'm made to do.” His words are said lowly and quickly, with dark emotions. The fiery man doesn’t know what to say, or if this is just another theatrical trick.

 

“Is that so?” He finally manages to answer impassively. Grillby doesn’t really find anything else to say and to him, it doesn’t really matter. The bartender doesn’t have time to focus on a tragic life of a trashy celebrity. Besides, it might only be exaggeration on the actor’s side.

 

“Grillby, do you… like your job?” The question is mildly surprising. The male fixes his glasses, looking at the floor. It’s a job. A work. Something necessary he – _everyone_ – needs to do for living. It comes naturally to him and there’s no point to think if he likes or not.

 

“Does it matter? And hurry up, I don’t have the whole night,” the bartender says impatiently.

 

“Way ahead of you. I’m done,” Mettaton answers neutrally, though tension still lingers. Grillby must have really hit the nerve with that small comment of his.

 

The fire man’s reaction is immediate. Absently, he orders the spiders to keep an eye of the robot and tie him again, while he would look through these screens. He pushes Mettaton out of the way eyes glued to these sharp, living images. They resemble windows. If the flame didn’t know any better, it would be easy to imagine just slipping through the screen on the other side.

 

Finally,  _finally_ he would find out what happened to Sans on that day. “Hey… How can I see records of certain days?” Grillby tries to keep his voice calm, cold and calculating. He needs to show he’s in charge of the situation (even though it’s just illusion: He hasn’t been in control for a long time.)

 

“…You really just stormed in here without any clue about anything, didn’t you?” The robots taunting voice works like electricity, pushing the irritation further inside the flame. The bartender squeezes the edge of the panel.

 

“I just want to find him as quickly as possible… that’s all…” He almost doesn’t register his own voice. It sounds so distant and faint.

 

For a long time, Alphys’ creation is silent. “It’s that green button, on the right corner, when you go there, it shows you the files which have been sorted according to dates. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the day, have you?”

 

Grillby clenches his jaw. “No, no I haven’t,” he mutters between his teeth as he pushes the button. The files are there, just as Mettaton said. The dates are marked clearly, making it easy for the bartender to browse through.

 

The male stops when he sees what he’s looking for. The camera runs the scene crystal clear: Sans is standing at the edge of the cliff, looking just so... collapsed, tired. His eye-sockets are lifeless: Just two black holes in his skull. The bartender feels oddly detached as he views the film like it's just what is appear to be. A scene caught by surveillances. He remembers feeling  _so_ much at that moment and now it's like they are sucked away.

 

It's been so long since the flame man has been able to see the skeleton. He hadn't even remembered how many scars decorated those bones, or how baggy clothes Sans liked to wear. They never really flattered Sans and his frame. The bartender noted this once his humble and simple purpose being teasing his friend.

 

Grillby sees himself. The male's hands twitch as he sees how panicked and out of character he looks. No monster carry that face of worry on them. He keeps staring at the edge warily, their old conversation echoing on the room.

 

The male hasn't forgotten one thing: Sans' face when he hears the confession. His closed expression. Even then, the skeleton hadn't let Grillby near him. The bartender wants to ask the small figure, what did he do wrong? What he should have done so he would have been able to really save him?

 

But they are just reflections. They can't give the bartender what he wants.

 

Sans disappears and appears in another screen near his and Papyrus' house. He runs fast inside and the camera is so far the flame can't see the face. Did something happen in that house? Was it after all Papyrus...?

 

Time passes. Nothing happens. Grillby keeps glancing at every screen impatiently. Mettaton sighs loudly, making sure everyone in the room hears him. “You  _do_ realize you can speed it up?” The robot speaks with a degrading tone. “The button on the left corner. That red one.”

 

The male doesn't know why he isn't killing the bastard already. But it's a tempting thought. Despite the other one being like drops of water on his flames, stinging and burning just enough for it to be unpleasant and impossible to ignore, he obeys.

 

The house keeps still and small figures flash past it time to time. Finally, one of the stars of this farce slams the door open and Grillby stops speeding the film. The tall skeleton is  **enraged** and even through this old film, the bartender can see his magic flicker angrily. Papyrus clearly has hard time to keep it in check. The flame watches, letting his emotions pass through his soul like waves as he keeps observing this monster's expressions. The spiders let out a small booing noises, which makes these events look even more bizarre and far away.

 

 

Papyrus stomps angrily the mix of snow and monster dust under his feet – Oh, how fitting – as he marches to Grillby. The male fasts forward this part with a dull expression. After that, he sees how Papyrus searches the whole night, forcing his guards to work through the hours. Just like Grillby, they found nothing.

 

 

The male checked other cameras from that day only to notice that they were just about as useful as the rest. Grillby doesn't want to give up that easily. His fingers are dancing on the board as he opens another file from that week. In there, Papyrus is much more impatient, more angry. The fire watches him to kill one of his guards in frustration. Out of curiosity, he checks other files from that week. Papyrus is  **obsessed.** No, he's beyond that. He questions random monsters, torturing them if they don't give him the answer he wants, the captain neglects his tasks, sacrificing them in order to hunt down his brother.

 

Time to time he has this look on his face, something else than anger. It reminds the bartender of someone with withdrawal symptoms. Like Sans was his drug. Like the male breathed Sans. Papyrus eye-socket are burning with yearning which _**screams**_. It's nothing like Grillby's silent longing inside his soul.

 

_You should have thought of that before treating him like shit,_ The fire's thoughts are full of cruel satisfaction and smugness. Papyrus has suffered from this loss as much as Grillby. Maybe even more. But unlike the bartender, he deserved it.

 

“You know... he hasn't always been like that.” The bartender has almost forgotten Mettaton all together devoting all of his attention to this one cause. The voice sounds worn out and small. That, however, doesn't surprise Grillby at all. The warmth that can be detected underneath of melancholic tone does.

 

The male turns quickly, glaring the faceless box. Somewhere deep inside his mind he's curious to hear more, to learn. But the simpler side of him dominates all of the emotions within. Childishly the flame doesn't want to believe that this  _**freak.** _ Has been any different. Ever. He doesn't want to hear anything that might make this torturer even remotely redeemable.

 

Mettaton doesn't seem to care however. He's facing the screens and even though the robot doesn't have any facial expressions, Grillby can sense the weight of his emotions through the silence.

 

It... Annoys him. Papyrus doesn't deserve other monsters' compassion. He already had had  _**everything.** _ Fame, respect, wealth... while Sans had absolutely  _**N O T H I N G.** _ “I don't care,” Grillby growls coldly. Right now he wishes he could revive Papyrus so he could kill him again. “He was still scum.”

 

“Oh, don't get me wrong, he was that alright,” Mettaton scoffs. The fiery man is taken a back by the cold bitterness of his voice. He wants to believe it's all an act. But more and more he listens to Alphys' creation the more his reasons to believe so fades. There's just something raw and real in Mettaton's voice and behavior. “Alphys did something to him. Papyrus wasn't like that as a child.”

 

Papyrus and child in the same sentence is something bizarre and far-fetched. It makes something inside Grillby twitch. But at the same time, he actually realizes only now that even  _he_ was a child once. Of course, it's only natural – every single monster and human have been a child once. It's only obvious, it's nothing but nature.

 

It's just so hard to imagine. Something about it upsets the flame and he wants to slam his hands on his ears and refuse to listen. He doesn't want to think someone like that as something so fragile and vulnerable. But as upsetting as it is, he feels like he  _has to_ listen. “What did Alphys do?” The male's voice is low, nearly a whisper.

 

Had he gone after a wrong person? Had Alphys brainwashed Sans' brother to do all those things? But... Why? What reasons the scientist could have had? The small woman seems like a crazy individual, doing experiments seemingly randomly without any reason behind them. The grim, ugly truth is however that the lady always had some sort of achievement in mind no matter how sick they appear to be.

 

“Papyrus visited regularly... demanding Alphys to inject something in him... He... he turned more and more aggressive every time.” For a split second, Mettaton's voice cracks as the words drag themselves forcefully out of his mouth.

 

The flame doesn't know what to say. He still doesn't feel sympathy towards that miserable creature. It was still his own choice. Sans never had anything to choose from to begin with. If Mettaton is genuine with the empathy that shines through his voice he's far more naive than Grillby ever believed. “I don't care. He did it to himself.”

 

The robot scoffs resembling for a short moment of that arrogant shining star. “Quite the attitude you have. Thinking only you and Sans were the ones suffering.” The celebrity might have as well pour water on Grillby. The flames hissed and danced, lighting the room with purple, cold shimmering.

 

“ **That doesn't excuse shit!”** the bartender shouts locking his eyes on the robot. **“He** _ **starved**_ **Sans!** _ **Beat**_ **him!** _ **RAPED HIM!”**_ All those despicable things have gone demonic circle inside his mind without a way out. Now Grillby is finally throwing them up letting them taint the air with their toxic.

 

“Of course it doesn't!” Mettaton shouts back and his voice is as black with negative emotions as the flame monster's. “But he had something that others like him didn't have! **Love!** _ **Your**_ love! Do you have any fucking idea how rare that is?! You might have suffered but at least it was more than what others had! You didn't even _bother_ to hide it!” An ugly chuckle escapes the robot. “Everyone knew, you know... That's why Alphys hated you... That's why I hated Sans!”

 

“Then why are you helping me?” Grillby growls stepping closer, slowly, rage making everything more suffocating. He sees his spiders cowering and trembling. He really doesn't understand his helper at all. The flame can't predict his actions and words at all. He's also angry for all of the Snowdin. They _**all**_ _knew._

 

_It wasn't because of the fear of Papyrus. It was their own shallow envy that ripped him and Sans apart._

 

“Because I realized me and Sans were the same,” Now the robotic is nothing but a withered whisper. “Alphys is... not the nicest. And it's not like I asked for this life anyway.”

 

The flame is torn in two: He doesn't want to listen to Mettaton. He wants to hold on to the black and white world which makes everything so much more simple and easy. The spiders are turning to look at each other in uncertainty. “You still had more than Sans. You still didn't have any trouble killing all those monsters in the name of the king.”

 

Now the laughter the robot lets out is maniac, tired and pain-filled. “ _Honey,_ I'm an actor. I have one face on the stage and another off stage.  _**You don't know anything about me.** _ ” The wording belonged so strongly to the Mettaton Grillby knew and for a second he honestly feels comfortable. This is something familiar, something he can deal with, something he can hold on to. He can’t even feel bad for the star through his own momentary relief. “Besides, I think you should be thanking me, anyway.” Mettaton says bitter sweetly, breaking Grillby’s fragile comfort. 

 

“For what?” The bartender’s voice is bored as he rolls his eyes. “I’m still not really assured about your motives.” the flame really doesn’t want to admit that the robot has been useful. It would be letting down his guard and that he can’t do. Not ever.

 

“Papyrus actually asked me to kill you publicly as a warning. I refused. So… your welcome.” Mettaton sounds flat and not really proud of it. Once again an irresistible want to question the story and plug his ears nearly takes over… But… It sounds so much like what Papyrus would have done. “So why didn’t you?” Grillby asks turning back to the bright screens, starting to browse folders again. Maybe… maybe there was some kind of clue after a week or a month after Sans’ disappearance? Leonardo is moving restlessly and the flame almost feels the little thing’s eyes on him.

 

“Let’s just say… a tiny flower told me not to.” The fire grits his teeth. He should have known this tin can is only making fun of him. It’s so tempting to answer, to snap back, but Leonardo coughs.

 

_Master… Let’s hurry._ The spider is right. Grillby nods, starting to browse more folders trying find any clue. Maybe some clues are there, week after Sans’ disappearance. Nothing. The life continues on like always except for Papyrus’ fevered raging. He’s decorating the Underground with ashes with his bony hands, his desperation and madness consuming him. 

 

But… Nothing. Nothing about Sans.

 

His last option he had hang on like a drowning man until now has failed.  _There’s must be an another way._ This can’t be all there is. He could think something. Hasn’t he always said that to Sans? That he would figure something out. 

 

He never did though. And now it’s too late. The flame’s head is blank. No ideas, no feelings. Nothing is waking up in him. Is he really this unimaginative? Is there really nothing else he can think of?

 

_Master?_ Leonardo’s voice is unsure. Grillby can feel everyone staring at him like he was a clown. Well, in a way he is. 

 

“Hey, you,” the male finally speaks coldly, turning to Mettaton. “Is there any other tapes or material? Has Alphys destroyed anything for example?” The male makes sure he isn’t talking too fast or sounding too frantic. He needs to keep it together and not show his weakness.

 

“There’s only one,” Mettaton answers casually. “It’s the one where you kill Papyrus. Alphys hid it so she could make Undyne have the whole glory to her in order to get closer to that stinky fish.”

 

So there’s really nothing anymore. Grillby should just leave, trying to think some other solution. Or just continue his life trying to forget Sans all together. It almost worked with his mother. However some stubborn part of him refuses. If the answer isn’t here, it must be somewhere else.

 

“I don’t think Sans is in this world anymore”, Mettaton’s voice says matter of factly. The male grits his teeth, hating how the thought of Sans’ death is grinding his gears badly despite the high probability of it.

 

“I don’t care what you think,” The male hisses. Or at least _he doesn’t want to care._

 

“It’s not what you think.” Mettaton would probably roll his eyes if he had the second form. “Alphys has a theory… A hypothesis of another worlds, next to us…” The robot’s words are said silently, the actor’s dreaming shining through. “I have seen her theories… And Alphys isn’t an idiot, she wouldn’t start theorizing something like this in vain.”

 

It sounds too good, too far fetched. And in some way very cruel. What kind of twisted coincident it would be that they had been pushed in here. Grillby wants to laugh at the thought. “What kind of worlds are we talking about?” He asks folding his arms.

 

“Parallel worlds apparently.” Once again, Mettaton is dead serious. He seems to be very sure of this. To the bartender, all of this still sounds like a fantasy. How Sans even would have ended up in a place like that?

 

“Do you have any proofs?” He sounds so sure and firm. Grillby doesn’t dare to even considering to believe anything like that unless there’s something, _anything._ Even if Alphys has theories, they are just that: Theories. Empty hyphothesis without any guarantee of being reality. 

 

“I have seen it.” Mettaton says and his voice is oddly tight, colored in many emotions. The bartender desperately wishes for it to be truth, but…

 

How can he know the robot hasn’t just been hallucinating? Or maybe just dreaming lucidly?

 

Grillby feels weak. Weak for even depending on such an unstable, thin thing. The thoughts inside him are melting together into a one big mess only increasing pieces to this nearly unsolvable puzzle. Whatever the truth may be, one person’s subjective experience is not enough for the bartender.

 

There’s nothing more to him now. Without answering, or even acknowledging the robot, he walks past him. Leonardo coughs.  _Master shouldn’t you kill him? He saw us! He might tattle on us!_

 

The fire stops. The spider certainly makes a point. Hasn’t he besides been the one threatening Mettaton from the very beginning? Grillby turns to his unlikely helper fireballs already in his hands. Mettaton is just staring at him - Or at least that’s what Grillby thinks he’s doing – without saying a word. The robot isn’t doing anything to resist, he’s completely empty, just like –

 

The fireballs fades quickly as soon as the flame’s concentration falters.  _When did I become so soft?_ It doesn’t matter. The flame knows he can’t afford any kind of naivety or blindness but his instincts are telling him that at least part of Mettaton he has seen tonight is  _the real one._ The one suffering and being suffocated by this world. 

 

The situation is too familiar. It creeps the man out. Even the lingering hopelessness is the same as Sans’ when the skeleton just stood there, staring at the abyss.

 

Grillby doesn’t want to –  _can’t be –_ in this place any more. He turns his back to that pitiful performancer. “Untie him. I don’t think he talks to anyone unless he wants trouble.” The bartender doesn’t even stay to make sure that the spiders start to fulfill his order. Grillby leaves, escapes the cold light that the screens cast. At the corner of his eye, he can see Leonardo sulking. The small spider has folded his arms and he doesn’t talk. 

 

It doesn’t matter right now. The male has too many thoughts and feelings to comprehend.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I imagine "Hanging tree" from Hunger Games being Grillby's and Sans' theme or "song" so to speak. Just out of curiousity, what songs does this series remind you of? :3 That would actually be helpful since the music that fits to the characters/themes/ helps me write.

**Author's Note:**

> So... Grillby adopted a herd of tiny, jumpy spider children.... 
> 
> ...He has some explaining to do to his bae


End file.
